


Trick-Or-Treat

by Rawrbin



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Batfam Halloween, Gen, Halloween, Horror, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin (DCU), Spooky, Trick or Treating, but also its kind of cute, some scary imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27302329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rawrbin/pseuds/Rawrbin
Summary: “And what of patrol? What do you suppose will happen if some rogues attack Gotham tonight and Nightwing and Robin are not there to stop them because they chose instead to spend the evening traipsing about the city in search of nutrition-void confectioneries?”“Well Little D, lucky for us all the baddies are more partial to Devil’s Night than to Halloween itself. Or have you already forgotten the massive roundup we did last night?”“Tt.” Damian huffs. Of course he remembers. How could one forget the catastrophe that had been the previous evening? The Bat vigilantes had been spread paper thin, trying to cover the whole city as Scarecrow released wave after wave of fear-gas-tranqued henchmen loose on Gotham. In the ensuing battle Damian had come embarrassingly close to being gassed himself. Everything had worked out in the end though, with Scarecrow safely back in Arkham.Still, despite the chaos of the previous evening being wrapped up neatly, Damian can’t help but feel something unsettling deep in the pit of his stomach.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36
Collections: Batfam Halloween Week





	Trick-Or-Treat

**Author's Note:**

> This was for Day 2 of BatFam Halloween Week. Prompts: Trick-or-Treat and Fear Gas.  
> I wanted to play with this more, but I was obviously running late and wanted to to at least post it by Halloween! This is my first attempt at ever writing something spooky/horror-ish. I'm not sure if it's really my forte but I hope you enjoy the Halloween vibes anyways. :)

“Is this truly necessary Grayson?” Damian questions for the third time that evening. “I have no desire to spend the night gallivanting about the streets of Gotham dressed up in an overly ostentatious costume.” 

He holds out his cape to make his point, the bottom hem of it forming large bat-like wings under his arms. It’s utterly ridiculous. As if to prove his point, Todd chokes on a snort of laughter. 

“You see? Todd agrees with me. This whole affair will be a frivolous waste of time.” 

Crossing his arms he slides closer to Jason, thinking that the violent buffoon may finally prove useful for once and help him counter Grayson’s ridiculous demands. He shoots a glare towards his oldest brother (though it is still difficult for Damian to think of him that way. Grayson and Todd and Drake are not related to him by blood, and with the exception of Grayson, Damian still can’t find any merit to accepting the older boys into his family). Certainly with Todd on his side Damian will not be subjected to this tomfoolery. 

He should have known better than to trust Todd. 

“Actually,” Jason laughs, pretending to wipe tears away from his eyes as Damian turns to scowl up at him, “I was just laughing at you. I think you gave up any rights to complain about  _ gallivanting about Gotham in ostentatious costumes _ the moment you decided to put on the Robin outfit.”

Traitor. 

He hears another laughing snort behind him and whips around in time to see Grayson try and cover it with a hand over his mouth. As if Damian could be so easily fooled. His scowl deepens. He refuses to be made a mockery of. 

“I will not put up with this ridiculous farce any longer,” he declares, reaching up to untie the bow at his neck which is holding the flimsy satin cape in place. Grayson lurches forward as if to stop him, but it’s Todd’s meaty fingers that tighten around his wrist and pulls his arm away. Yep, definitely a traitor (Damian can’t believe that he had been starting to consider letting the man into their family. There is definitely no place for someone like this). Damian pulls out of his grasp, moving away from the older men but leaving the cape in place in order to keep the grabby hands at bay. 

“Come on Little D, don’t be like that,” Grayson whines. With the childlike way he often behaves out of uniform it is difficult at times to remember that the man was once Damian’s Batman. Now that he has been relieved of the duty it seems he has made it his life’s mission to humiliate Damian by forcing him to participate in an array of infantile activities under the guise of ‘cultural education.’ Damian is already well-cultured, thank you very much. If anyone needs training it is the street rat Todd.

“You’re going to love it, I promise. Trick-or-treating is an American tradition. Plus, I still remember which houses give out the best candy. You’re going to get boatloads.” 

He dares to wink at Damian as he makes the statement. Damian is not amused. 

“Processed sugars are not good for the body, Grayson. Though as someone who lives on a diet of cereal alone I doubt you’d know that.” He sniffs. “I on the other hand strictly adhere to the nutritional diet laid out by Pennyworth. I doubt he would approve if he knew you planned to coerce me into consuming such an abundance of sugary ‘treats’.”

There. Damian had played his ace. No one in this house would dare go against Pennyworth. Surely he has just won the argument. 

“Jesus kid,” Jason says, slapping his forehead. “You really are abnormal.”

Damian shifts uncomfortably. Todd’s words don’t matter. If anyone is abnormal surely it is him, not Damian. 

“Jay, not helping.” Grayson chastises. Todd just shrugs and gestures towards Damian as if that explains everything. Grayson sighs. 

“You are not abnormal, Damian.” 

“I know.” Damian bristles. As  _ if _ he needed Grayson’s reassurances. 

“Normal kids love trick-or-treating.”

“Jay!” 

“I’m not a ‘kid’!”

“You’re ten.” 

“Stop it!” Grayson belts out loudly, getting both of their attention. 

“Damian… I’m sure your diet can survive one night of added sugar. You’re living here now so it won’t hurt you to try participating in some of our traditions. That includes Halloween. And believe it or not Alfred has always been very pro-trick-or-treating, so you won’t have any problems there. He’s already prepared his own sweets to hand out tonight. And Jay... either stop antagonizing him or leave.” 

Jason just smirks. 

“Oh, I can’t leave yet. You may know about where all the best treats are, but someone has to teach him about the tricks.”

“Jay, no.” 

Tricks? This may prove to be more interesting than Damian originally thought. He isn’t quite ready to give up his fight though. 

“And what of patrol? What do you suppose will happen if some rogues attack the city tonight and Nightwing and Robin are not there to stop them because they chose instead to spend the evening traipsing about the city in search of nutrition-void confectioneries?”

Todd rolls his eyes and Grayson elbows him in the stomach. Todd just laughs. 

“Well Little D, lucky for us all the baddies are more partial to Devil’s Night than to Halloween itself. Or have you already forgotten the massive roundup we did last night? You sure your memory’s working okay?” 

“Tt.” Damian huffs. Of course he remembers. How could one forget the catastrophe that had been the previous evening? The Bat vigilantes had been spread paper thin, trying to cover the whole city as Scarecrow released wave after wave of fear-gas-tranqued henchmen loose on Gotham. In the ensuing battle Damian had come embarrassingly close to being gassed himself. He flushes at the memory of the close call. Robin shouldn’t make mistakes like that. Everything had worked out in the end though, with Scarecrow safely back in Arkham.

Still, despite the chaos of the previous evening being wrapped up neatly, Damian can’t help but feel something unsettling deep in the pit of his stomach. Something beyond being forced to parade about the streets dressed in a cheap vampire costume surrounded by hordes of juvenile candy seekers. However, when he looks up into Grayson’s eyes he sees that same kind of wistful gleam that they often get when Grayson feels Damian isn’t acting “correctly.” That churns his gut even more. 

Reluctantly he agrees, much to Grayson’s delight. 

He’s definitely getting more details about those “tricks” from Todd before they head out though. 

Grayson drives them out to the suburbs surrounding Gotham; there aren’t many homes within walking distance of Wayne manor after all. Damian stares out the window of the Bently Grayson had borrowed from father as they drive, his brother’s incessant chatter fading to the background. The rows of houses they pass look long and foreboding, lit only by dim porch lights and flickering candles placed inside carved pumpkins. Bodies dot the streets, flickering like the candles as they float between the houses searching for their treasures. 

When Damian finally steps out of the car he shivers. The road Grayson has parked them on is seemingly endless, stretching far off into the distance until Damian can’t see any further, disappearing into a black hole. Damian pulls his cape around himself a bit tighter. He blames it on the cool fall air. 

“This was a mistake. L-let us return to the manor,” he stammers out, turning away from the dark street and back towards the car. He’s bodily bumps into Grayson’s torso. 

“Nuh uh. You haven’t even been to one house yet. Come on Little D, it will be fun. Just give it a try. For me?” 

A smile stretches wide across his face as he looks down at Damian. Damian can't shake his strange felony of trepidation, but he knows there is no arguing with Grayson now. Turning back to the street he takes it in again. It’s just a regular suburban road, albeit dressed up for the holiday. All he has to do is go to each house, beg for candy, and then they can leave. There’s no reason his stomach should be so twisted into knots. 

After taking a deep reassuring breath he allows Grayson to corral him towards the first home on their left, eyes darting back and forth as he makes his way down the path. There’s nothing there, aside from some tacky homemade decorations seemingly created from hot glue and pinecones. Grayson ushers him towards the door. It stands tall and looming in front of him. 

Damian swallows and turns back to Grayson. This feels wrong. But his brother simply mouths “knock” and makes a shooing gesture with his hands. Damian reaches out and raps on the door. 

It creaks ominously as it swings open and Damian’s muscles tense, prepared for whatever may appear behind it.

“Aren’t you just the cutest little vampire!” 

A middle aged woman wearing an orange sweater is behind the door, holding a large plastic bowl. Damian recoils backwards at the indignity of being called ‘cute’, and the tension in his body leaves him a rush. He flushes, feeling foolish about his earlier trepidation. This is nothing but bored suburbanites passing out treats to equally dull children. He gives his head a shake to clear the remaining vestiges of unease from his mind and opens his mouth to give the woman a stern talking to about just who she is referring to as “cute.” 

A hand clasps his shoulder. Damian's heart leaps into his throat as he jerks back in surprise, crashing into the miscreant who has snuck up on him from behind. 

“Say ‘trick or treat’” he hears whispered into his ear. 

He looks behind. It is only Grayson. 

He gives Damian a nudge forward. Damian tries to ignore the pounding in his chest. 

“Trick-or-treat” he grits out. The words sit heavy on his tongue. 

The woman in the orange sweater smiles at him. Her hand disappears into her bowl and pulls out a piece of candy before she reaches out and drops it soundly into the pumpkin-shaped bucket Grayson has forced Damian to carry. It makes a loud clunking noise when it hits the hard plastic of the empty vessel. Damian stares down at it for a moment, mesmerized. 

There's a sharp jab at his back. 

“ _ Thank you _ ,” comes another whisper. 

“T-thank you,” he repeats, seemingly on autopilot. He looks back up at the woman, candy bowl clutched tightly in her talons, her wide eyes and stretched smile and is suddenly overcome with the urge to leave her doorstep as quickly as possible. Thankfully Grayson leads him away with a gentle push of his shoulder, throwing a “Happy Halloween” back at the woman as he does so. 

Retreating to the sidewalk does little to calm the anxiety growing in his chest though as he is once again confronted with the image of the dark road. Damian can’t shake the feeling that something sinister lurks at the end of it. He looks back towards the car longingly, but Grayson’s hand on his shoulder steers him farther away and towards the next home.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He asks Damian, looking down at him. His smile seems impossibly wide. 

The bucket in Damian’s hand begins to fill. As the tight grip digging into his shoulder ushers him from house to house he can’t find the energy to do anything other than go where he is lead and choke out the required phrases at the appropriate times. It seems like he has knocked on infinite doors, each heavier and more foreboding than the last, but the darkened end of the street never manages to get any closer. 

Grayson pushes him towards the next house, but Damian digs in his heels, forcing them to a stop. The front path is lined with Jack-o-lanterns. Each with a crooked grin and malicious eyes. Faces flickering. Watching him. They are all watching him. He tries to step back but Grayson is behind him forcing him forwards. 

“Come on Damian, stop being difficult. Can’t you at least try and enjoy it, for my sake?” 

Watching him. Plotting. 

“Grayson, I-” 

He clenches his eyes shut tight. He is an Al Ghul. He is not afraid of some silly carved gourds. 

After taking a deep breath he opens his eyes again, forcing himself not to run and betray his fear as he hurriedly makes his way to the door. He doesn’t look down at the pumpkins as he passes them, even though he can feel their malevolent candle-lit gazes burning into him.

Damian knocks on the door with more force than necessary. 

“Trick-or-treat!” he calls out, even before the door swings open to reveal a woman with a pointy toothed smile adorning her face. 

“Happy Halloween,” she cackles, thrusting a tray towards him. Damian recoils immediately. 

Adorning the tray is a row of sliced meats, pink, raw, and dripping. The putrid stench of it hits his nose and makes him gag. He pulls the cape up over his nose but his attempts to back away are once again thwarted by Grayson. 

“Go on Damian, take one.” 

He turns to look up at his older brother, eyes blown wide. Surely this is irregular. All the prior houses had merely distributed sweets. Grayson simply stares back down at him though, wide smile still in place, carving up into his cheeks. 

“I d-don’t want this,” he stammers, pleadingly. Grayson knows he is a vegetarian. 

“Damian, don’t be rude,” Grayson tells him. Another small jab hits the center of his back, but Damian remains frozen in place, refusing to get any closer to the slabs of unknown flesh. 

“Just take it,” Grayson leans down and whispers when Damian doesn’t reach out for the offering. “If you don’t want it you can give it to Tim.” 

Damian looks at him incredulously. 

“You want me to give this to Drake?” 

Grayson doesn’t look amused. Something dark flashes over his face. Damian shivers.

“Damian. Take it and say thank you.” 

The woman’s eyes bore into him with even greater force than the jack-o-lanterns had as he reaches forward to grab a slice of meat, holding the dripping flesh as far from his body as possible until he discards it into his pail. It sloshes down, blood oozing out onto his thus far accumulated candy. 

“I will give it to Titus,” he tells Grayson once they’ve safely made it back to the sidewalk. The thought of his canine companion makes him suddenly wish fiercely that the dog were there with him. This affair would certainly be less horrid with a protector by his side. 

“I don’t think that’s good for him,” Grayson replies, rolling his eyes. Damian is ushered further down the narrowing street full of confusion. 

Other children pass them as they walk, faces twisted and horrifyingly grotesque in a way that Damian struggles not to flinch away from. They are only costumes, he reminds himself. Only masks. 

The pathway to the next house is long and dark, lit only by a single flickering candle on the porch. Damian’s stomach twists, but he knows he can’t turn back. Grayson won’t allow it. He lifts the brass knocker and waits. 

A wrinkled hand wraps out around the door, skin stretched so thin over bone that it seems barely more than a skeleton, and Damian gasps as a cockroach scurries over the fingers before making its way up a long draping sleeve. The door creaks open, revealing an old man with a toothy grin. He extends a bowl towards Damian. 

It’s filled to the brim with insects - cockroaches and creepy crawlies overflowing as they wriggle and scurry about. They cascade out of the bowl and over the man’s hands skittering everywhere - up over his arms, across his neck, down from his pant legs escaping off into the darkness. 

A lump catches in Damian's throat. He gulps, forcing himself to take deep breaths to keep anything from coming up. It can’t be real. Surely this is some kind of allusion, just like the costumes. This is what Americans do on Halloween. They love horror. 

Even as he tries to reassure himself he is not convinced. His eyes flicker back to Grayson again, looking for any sign - any hint - that he is not the only one finding this out of the ordinary. But the look he receives in return is one of warning, so he bites his lip and with his skin crawling he reaches into the bowl.  _ They’re not real _ he tells himself as he grasps around a handful.  _ They feel real _ . Needled legs and scratchy shell-like wings claw desperately against his palm as he races to deposit them into the plastic bucket. 

There is no lid. They will likely escape.

Grayson reminds him to say “thank you” before he lets him leave. 

Damian fights back tears as they make their way back to the sidewalk. 

“I hate this!” he cries out. “This is horrible and stupid and I hate it and I want to go home!” 

A fat black beetle is crawling up onto the handle of his pail. Damian recoils and flings the cursed thing to the ground. It bounces hard on the cement and scatters candy everywhere. 

“Damian!” Grayson roars angrily, his eyes glowing demonically red. “I told you Tim will eat the things you don’t want. You were the one who said you didn’t need candy in the first place, you don’t have to get so upset when you get something you don’t like. Just politely say thank you and move on. You claim trick-or-treating is too childish but then you throw a tantrum like this? I thought I’d taught you better.”

Damian stands stock still, watching insects scurry away as Grayson gets down on his hands and knees to scoop the spilled candy back into the pumpkin pail. The gazes of passing trick-or-treaters bore into him and Damian curls in on himself, hiding inside the cape pulled impossibly tight around his frame. How he wishes he had his real cape and Robin costume.

The pumpkin bucket is thrust back into his hands and Damian grasps around the handle, white-knuckled, despite wanting nothing to do with it. 

"Come on," Grayson tells him, sounding irritable. "A few more houses and if you really hate it that much then we can go. I wish you'd at least try to enjoy this instead of putting up such a fuss." 

Grayson's nails dig into his back like talons as he corals Damian down the sidewalk. 

The next few homes they pass are dark. Impossibly dark. Like staring into an abyss.

Grayson murmurs something about them being not home and forces Damian onward. Damian swallows and shakes his head, reminding himself of Grayson's promise. Just a few more houses. He can do this. 

They get to the next house. 

He can't do this. 

Between the sidewalk and the door of the next home stand the confines of Hades itself. Demons line the pathway, eyes glowing and all fixated squarely on Damian as their grotesque faces mutate, sliding like putty as their mouths stretch wide and wet saliva drools down from between razor sharp teeth, clawed fingers poised to grab him if he gets any closer. 

His chest seizes. 

"No. Grayson, please. I don't want to go in there." 

He flinches hard when talons pierce into his shoulder. Jerking he whips around to fight whatever horror has grabbed him, but it's only Grayson standing there. Heart racing he looks around frantically, waiting for anything to jump out. Grayson retracts his hand, staring down at Damian curiously for a moment. 

“Damian, are you… are you scared?” 

Grayson has the gull to laugh at him then, wide smile overtaking his face and stretching all the way to his ears. “They’re just decorations. Honestly. I didn’t think you’d be the type to be afraid of a few plastic spookies.” 

There is nothing plastic about them though. All around him ghastly shapes form, reaching out at him from every side, clawing at him as if to drag him down into the depths of hell. 

“Damian, come on,” Grayson dares to laugh again as he pushes Damian forward. “What has gotten into you?” 

He clenches his eyes shut tight as he is forcibly marched towards the door. Even if he can’t see them he knows they’re there. Can hear their screeches. Can feel their warm breath. 

By the time they reach the door his entire body is shaking, breath coming out in rapid bursts. 

“Dami. Say trick-or-treat. Come on you’re being silly.” 

“It’s his first time trick-or-treating, I think he’s a little spooked,” Grayson laughs out, comment directed not at Damian but at the homeowner. 

“I’ll have to put out a few less ghosts next year,” a woman’s voice laugh’s back. 

Damian swallows. He is a Wayne. An Al Ghul. He can’t be done in by some silly American holiday. 

_ It’s not real. They're just plastic. _

Even as he tries to reassure himself he can feel them behind him. 

Trembling he peels his eyes open. The woman before him is holding out a bowl filled to the brim with blood.  _ Not real. It’s not real.  _

He looks up at the woman’s face. Where her eyes should be there are only dark holes, hallowed out all the way to the back of her skull.  _ There’s no way to fake that.  _

As he stares in horror blood begins to pour out of them in rivers. It cascades down into the bowl and blood splatters everywhere. 

Damian screams. 

He runs. 

Ignoring the feeling of warm blood he sprints back down the path. The ghouls, they’re clawing at him, screaming at him. Distantly he hears Grayson shouting as well. He doesn’t stop. He runs and runs until he can’t any more. Then he leans over and empties the contents of his stomach onto the sidewalk. 

“Damian!” 

Damian’s still hunched over, heart racing when he hears Grayson approach behind him. Trembling, he turns to his older brother for comfort. 

“Please Grayson, I want to go-” 

That wide smile has reached past his ears now. Slowly his jaw lowers, opening wider and wider until it’s wide enough to swallow him whole. 

“ _ Damian _ -” 

He tries to run, but Grayson is quicker. He jumps forward, talons sinking deep into Damian’s flesh as he pulls in his prey. Damian screams and struggles as he’s dragged closer and closer to that wide mouth with its jagged teeth ready to devour him. 

He blacks out. 

Damian slowly regains consciousness. When he blinks the room is painfully bright, so he decides to keep his eyes closed for the moment. It appears his motion didn’t go unnoticed though. 

“Little D?” 

Grayson.

Damian tenses. The last thing he remembers is… 

Suddenly his eyes fly open in a panic, ready to defend himself. He is Robin after all, he isn’t about to go down without a fight! What he finds in front of him though is not a hellish wide-mouthed demon of his nightmares, but instead a perfectly normal (if not worried) looking Richard Grayson sitting on a stool next to his bed. Glancing around he finds he is in the med bay of the cave. 

“Take it easy, Damian.” His father’s low timbers are surprisingly soothing after what he’s just been through. He allows himself to be pushed back down into the bed at his father’s gentle nudging. 

“What-” 

“Fear gas. It must be a new strain with a delayed reaction. Scarecrow must have gotten into your system somehow when you were fighting him last night. I took a blood sample to study it. I gave you an antidote for the effects but there may be some lingering paranoia. Best to rest a bit longer.” 

Damian just nods.  _ Fear Gas. So that was why… _

“Dami, I’m so sorry!” Grayson cries out miserably beside him. “I should have realized something was wrong sooner. That must have been awful for you.” 

Awful was an understatement. 

“It’s not your fault Grayson. And I am okay now. You need not worry.” 

“I’m still sorry, Little D. Next year I promise to take you out for a  _ proper _ Halloween. No rogues, no fear gas. Just good old fashion trick-or-treating.”

“A-alright,” he mumbles out in response. A shiver runs through him. 

As he glances nervously into the dark corners of the room he prays that he isn’t held to that statement. 


End file.
